


But Now I See

by monimala



Category: All My Children
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of an AU spin on events leading up to, and taking place during, the televised series finale. Angie turns to the one man she's learned to see clearly despite her blindness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Now I See

She forgives Jesse with her lips, with her arms…with every sense but sight. In her secret heart of hearts, Angie is a little glad that she can't look upon her husband's face. She's afraid that she'll flinch from him. Worse, she's afraid that she won't recognize him. Maybe that's why she turns to the one man she's learned to see clearly despite her blindness.

David holds her while she cries. He lets her beat her fury out on his chest. And he wisely withholds any of his own judgment of Jesse. Except to say, "I'm sorry, Angie. I know what it's like to lose a child." And somewhere in the middle of the empathy and the comfort and the strength of his arms, he kisses her. David Hayward pours his heart…his fractured, bitter heart, into that one gesture. Telling her everything he's holding back: that he'd kill Jesse for her and bring him back to life for her, too…and that he cares. It's their only kiss. Her only betrayal. Or so she tells herself in the weeks that follow.

She tries to stay away but, of course, she can't. David's one of her doctors and she…well, she ministers to his soul. How can either of them give up their charge? So, as Jesse becomes more and more a stranger…hollow voiced, seeking assurance and reassurance, Angie finds familiarity in the pads of David's fingers, and the wry lines of his smile.

They take walks in the park, have quiet lunches at the Yacht Club and, to her surprise, David even comes with her to church for a weeknight service. He sits stiffly beside her in the pew, every stubborn bone in his body telling her that he doesn't believe in God…but he believes in _her_ enough to try. "I believe in _you_ enough to try," she whispers against his cheek.

The first flickers of light begin in her peripheral vision. After that comes shape. Then color. Slowly, Angie begins to put back together her picture of the world. Jesse should be in the center of it. He _expects_ to be in the center of it, because she hasn't led him to believe any different. In her secret heart of hearts, that wicked place that Angela Baxter Hubbard is supposed to be too good, too honorable, to cultivate, Angie knows she's punishing him. Keeping a secret for his own good, just as he did for hers. And though she weeps when she finally sees him and dries _his_ tears, it's not Jesse that her eyes ache to look upon.

It's David who held her hand through her darkness, while she guided him to his light. It's David who's become her best friend, her confidant, her rock and her partner. It's David who never shies away from telling her the truth. So after she brings him the news of her sight—and his bright, sincere, completely joyous smile is so beautiful to behold—Angie knows she owes him something more.

She pulls him aside at Adam's party, into one of the rooms still draped with sheets and littered with boxes. He calls her "Angela," like Jesse and Tad do, but the nuances in his voice…well, she long ago picked up the particular fondness that David rations like gold. "What is it, Angela? Is it your eyes? Are you relapsing?"

"No, David, it's my heart." She takes his hand in both of hers. "Yours, too. David, I—"

"Angie, don't." He interrupts her swiftly, his dark, limitless, eyes flashing with alarm. "Don't say it."

"Why not?" She's felt this growing between them for months. It's a trust that she's come to rely on…trust, and something far deeper. She struggled with it, of course. She prayed on it. And she remembered that the only time in the past 23 years she dared love anyone else besides her husband—first Cliff, and then Jacob—was when she thought Jesse was dead. But it is what it is: a connection she can't deny…perhaps because, in a way, Jesse is dead to her all over again. And from the way David's looking at her, full of wonderment and apprehension, he feels it, too. "Do you think not saying it makes what's happening here any less true?"

"I think it keeps us from making a huge mistake." When she opens her mouth to protest, David presses three fingers to her lips. "It _would_ be a mistake, Angie, because you may have made me a better man, but I am still not good enough for you. I'm never going to be good enough for you." He laughs, with more than a touch of self-deprecation. "I'm David Hayward, you're Angela Hubbard. We're like oil and water. We don't mix. We don't match."

She kisses his fingertips, and then turns so his wide, protective palm is cradling her cheek. "You don't believe that," she whispers. "Not after everything we've accomplished together, everything we've learned about one another."

His thumb strokes her cheekbone with a gentleness most people think he's not capable of. "I _have_ to believe it," he tells her, a vehemence to his tone. "Because the alternative is to ruin you…to take everything that makes you who you are and dirty it. You deserve better than that. You deserve better than an affair with a man like me."

"Did I deserve my husband staying away from me for 20 years and having a beautiful little girl with another woman?" she demands. "Did I deserve to lose Ellie and Lucy and not even _know_ of my tragedy because he thought to spare me from it? Don't _tell_ me what I deserve, David; that's _my_ call to make." She puts her arms around him in an intimate embrace she's never dared initiate before. But what has fear ever gotten her but misery and solitude and lies heaped upon lies? "Does this feel dirty to you? Do I feel ruined?"

Somewhere in the middle of it all, she kisses him. She pours her heart…her fragile, hopeful heart, into that one gesture. Telling him everything she's holding back: that he healed her eyes _and_ her spirit, that she is proud to call him her friend…and that, against all odds, she's fallen more than a bit in love with him.

David kisses her back, fierce and hungry and unable to deny her. "You feel clean," he whispers, coming back to the well of her lips again and again. "Clean and perfect. You're the bravest woman I know. And, God help me, Angela, but I do love you. How could anyone _not_ love you? You're a miracle."

It's at that precise moment that a gunshot echoes through the cavernous mansion…forcing them apart in instant shock and concern. And it's also at that precise moment that Jesse appears in the doorway. 

"Angela…? Hayward...?" He flinches from her. Worse, he doesn't recognize her.

But it's all right—she'll _make it_ all right—because, for the first time in years, Angie knows herself.

 

\--end--

 

September 24, 2011


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